Heart
by Ammar K
Summary: Some rejections hurt more than others. Sometimes, the hard thing is to realise even idols have flaws. Scout-centric.


**Heart**

Summary: Some rejections hurt more than others. Sometimes, the hard thing is to realise even idols have flaws. Scout-centric.

* * *

><p>One of the things that Scout would never admit to doing was idolising Jedi Knight Siri Tachi.<p>

It seemed, on the surface, to be a rather foolish thing. Jedi students often idolised some Master or other—in the crèche, younglings had wrestling matches over just who was the Greatest Jedi Knight of All Time. Lena, for instance, was somewhat controversially, a fan of Sajhe Kel-Arran, who'd once been exiled from the Jedi Order for the role he played in the Mandalorian wars, only to have to rebuild the Order in the face of the devastation caused by the Jedi Civil War and the Sith Triumverate.

Lenx Narr, on the other hand, thought that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the _coolest_, and it was hard to deny his credentials for that position when he was the only Knight in recent years to have killed a Sith Lord.

That hero-worship—because that was what it amounted to, really, died out across the years, faded with what the Masters liked to call greater humility and a better understanding of a Jedi's place in the galaxy. Which was to say that mature Jedi students no longer thought in terms of who was the greatest, for that was a question that distracted from a Jedi's role in the galaxy.

For all of that, the years came and went for Scout, and still she found herself watching from a distance every time Siri Tachi came back to the Temple, before she forced herself to tackle her training exercises with increased determination.

Still, she fumbled her throws when Siri Tachi strode into her hand-to-hand combat class, and all she could feel was those intense, vivid blue eyes, burning holes into her shoulders, revealing all that was inadequate with her form because she wasn't flowing with the Force, because the Force was silent for her.

That was Siri Tachi; the image of a young goddess, golden hair gleaming weakly in the light, cropped to above her shoulders, energy sparking from those bright blue eyes of hers, that missed nothing at all. She had won the Initiate's Lightsaber Tournament, and then gone on to win five others, all during her time as Adi Gallia's apprentice. Scout had avidly studied her duel for the first-place ranking in the Looras Surik Tournament, held every five years for senior Padawans, and admired the stylish grace with which Siri Tachi had—at last!—dispatched Obi-Wan Kenobi, even if she would never have reminded Lenx of how his hero had lost, at the very end.

And then she had gone on to feel jealous and inadequate, because the Force wasn't strong with Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy and as far as everyone was concerned, it'd take a miracle from the Force itself to keep her out of the Agri-Corps.

* * *

><p>The first time Scout had encountered Siri Tachi was when the Knight had taken over her youngling lightsaber class because Knight Rummik was down with the Xotrannian flu and had to be kept under observation in the med-centre.<p>

She had, admittedly, been going through a rather silly phase: she'd had a screaming fight with the Rodian Husath Fareth from her clan, who'd scoffed and told her that all the great lightsaber masters and Jedi Knights in history _ever_ had been male and he was going to be _far_ better than she could ever be because he had the Force on his side and she was 'Dung, the charity case, barely strong enough in the Force to make a difference.

She hadn't cried, but her spirits had been down all weak—and then Jedi Knight Siri Tachi strode into their lightsaber class, her hair like sunlight, her violet lightsaber blade burning like snarling lightning and all Scout could do was to _stare_, to watch the crisp elegance of her movements, ozone burning its slow way into her lungs—

After the class, she'd approached Knight Tachi hesitantly; waited until those blue eyes met hers, electric like the sharp glow of a lightsaber blade, and then asked, "Master? How did you…" she choked back the question that Fareth had put in her—she'd skulked off to the Archives in search of the answer until Master Nu had spoken to her, and still the list of Knights she'd produced had been overwhelmingly male and inside, she'd feared that Fareth was _right_, and she couldn't explain why it was so important to her, but all the same…

Siri hooked callused hands into her belt. "Come on," she said, not unkindly. "Out with it."

"How did you get so good with a lightsaber? Master," she added, ducking her head when Siri Tachi sighed.

"Practice," Siri said, bluntly. "Lots of practice, Initiate—"

"Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy," Scout said.

Siri made a face. "There's a mouthful. Right. Initiate Endwandung-Esterhazy. I spent many hours in the training rooms, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Some people are just gifted with a lightsaber and it pays off, but it still takes hard work to get to the point you're good at it. Talent and the Force both help, but they can't substitute for it." For a moment, her eyes went distant. "I trained, of course. And I never gave up. Every time Initiates beat me into the ground in the early classes, I went off in my spare time and worked _hard_ and then I went back into the training room and beat _them_." And then that sharp gaze was fixed upon Scout again. "Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Hard work can overcome all obstacles. Well, most of them."

Scout nodded, and managed to thank her without stammering, before she scrambled off to think about it.

* * *

><p>After that, she pulled out (surreptiously) everything in the Archives that she could lay her hands on on Siri Tachi—on her apprenticeship to Adi Gallia, records of the things she'd done as a Padawan in the Temple. She learned that Siri Tachi had an apprentice by the name of Ferus Olin, and spent the next two days malachite with jealousy.<p>

She couldn't wield her lightsaber with the same combination of consumnate grace and power that Siri Tachi did, but she was Master Ilena "Iron Hand" Xan's favourite pupil, because of the precision of her choke-holds. Where the lightsaber was concerned, Scout practised with dogged determination, but all the same, the Force flowed only weakly for her, and her strokes were paintings of violet fire; shadows and imitations, rather than the actual thing itself.

Her eleventh birthday came and went, and with it came the time she was to travel to Ilum, under the guidance of an accompanying Knight to fashion her lightsaber. Some other Initiates undertook the journey in the companionship of their Master, and Scout couldn't help but envy them. _Their_ futures were secure; they had every reason to feel smug. She couldn't decide how she felt about it, knowing that there was a good chance that her new lightsaber would only accompany her through two years of dreams, and then a lifetime of labouring in quinto grain fields.

Deciding on her lightsaber hilt was difficult. Each time she carved a new line in the handgrip, she thought glumly about her prospects. Knights had come in to surreptiously watch their classes; some of them spoke to her classmates, but none of them to her. In the face of that, deciding whether she wanted to build her lightsaber in the hooked-hilt tradition of the Makashi stylists, or the solid, half-hilt design of the Djem So powerhouses, or even the clunky, easily-held designs of Ataru wielders seemed to be an unimportant question.

"C'mon," Lena said, when she saw Scout chewing on her lip and trying to decide if she really _did_ want to build in a secondary housing for a backup power source. "Your first lightsaber doesn't have to be _perfect_, Scout."

Said with all the carelessness of a well-meaning friend whose deft touch with the Force was admired by many Knights and Initiates alike.

Scout just scowled and absently flipped hair away from her eyes. She'd only just stopped cutting her hair above her shoulders, the way some Jedi Knights did. Short and proper like a Padawan, she'd resolved, for the next time she had to cut her hair. "You know they judge it, just like they judge everything else," she muttered, carefully soldering two wires together.

"No one expects us to get it all right from the start," Lena pointed out.

"I build it like a Shii-Cho fighter, and everyone starts thinking I'm scrappy and starts looking at me for anger," Scout said. Copper melted and fused together. "I build it like someone who does Niman and they think I'm one of those who likes diplomacy."

"It's a personal choice." Lena was beginning to get uncomfortable. Scout didn't need the Force to tell her that.

She sighed. Aloud, she said, "That's _exactly_ why they think your lightsaber says so much about you, Len. Because it's supposed to reflect who you are. Your choices."

"Scout," Lena said, rolling her eyes. "I think you're overthinking this." She touched Scout lightly, on the shoulder. "Just show them who you are, what you like. Don't show them what you think they want to see. Make them see _Scout_; the right Master will come along and realise that and take you."

Scout's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I guess," she said. "Thanks, Lena."

* * *

><p>Except the right Master hadn't come, and Scout nearly wanted to run back to the Initiate dormitory and bury herself under layers of blankets when she saw the schedules of the Ilum trip and who their assigned Knights were.<p>

Jedi Knight Siri Tachi would be taking her to Ilum.

Why a Jedi Knight, part of Scout wondered, why not a Master? Ferus Olin would've been of age to have become a Knight by now, surely, and she couldn't imagine anyone apprenticed to _Siri Tachi_ of all people failing their Trials. And any Knight who'd successfully trained an apprentice automatically attained the rank of Jedi Master, even though Scout had never allowed herself to think so far ahead…

And then she returned to wringing her hands and wondering if she was going to screw up right in front of Siri Tachi.

"Calm down," Lena said. Lena, who'd been paired up with Jedi Master Tulir Edrass, who as a first-class negotiator and lightsaber duelist, or so Scout had heard. The Twi'lek Jedi Master had a reputation for cunning, and his assignment to Lena was one that many of their classmates were jealous of. Still, Scout couldn't help but be happy for her friend. Master Edrass had taken interest in Lena over the past weeks, and the trip to Ilum could very well end up with an offer for Lena.

Herself, on the other hand…

"You're always so wound-up, Scout," Lena added. "I'm sure she doesn't bite."

That wasn't what she was afraid of. Scout didn't say that. Despite her words, Lena herself was nervous. She kept glancing in the direction of the workshop, as though she wanted to tear in there and make more last-minute refinements to her lightsaber hilt. It was a beautiful thing, Scout thought, having seen it. The metal seemed to flow organically, as though it had been made of coral or something more liquid. She'd despaired quietly in how chunky her lightsaber hilt had turned out. There were just no words for that.

"You'll be meeting your assigned Knights at the workshop at the time listed on the schedule," said Docent Harrun. "Master Thur has already certified your lightsabers ready for the crystal, but they'll be giving it a final go-over, just to be sure." Scout looked around the room. Eager faces met Docent Harrun's announcement, all of them eleven and Master-less. Those with Masters would be making the trip to Ilum under their Master's discretion.

Scout just looked at the time: two days from now, and thought she was going to be sick.

* * *

><p>The passage of time had not been kind to Siri Tachi.<p>

As Scout shuffled into the workshop to meet the Knight accompanying her, she had to surreptiously wipe her sweaty palms on her tunic. No worries at all, Scout, she told herself sarcastically. After all, a Jedi didn't worry for her future. Right?

She glanced up just in time to see Siri Tachi, sitting on a stool, bending over her workbench, examining the lightsaber components Scout had meticulously laid out. _Fierfek,_ Scout thought, as the silence stretched on and she wished the workshop wasn't empty, that it wasn't Siri Tachi of all people, that her lightsaber had been _better_ built, that…

And all of that, all the worries that the inner voice was babbling right now fell silent as Siri Tachi turned and regarded her with a weary blue gaze. Most of the spark was gone from it, Scout thought, numbly. The thing she'd remembered most about Siri Tachi was how _fierce_ she was, and that fierceness, that intensity conveyed itself in every aspect of her being. She looked at the world with that fierceness, unafraid of how the world might look back at her. She fought, too, with that ferocity. In all the vids Scout had replayed and watched on sleepless nights, she saw the way Siri Tachi had carved her place in the records as a Padawan, fighting past opponents who should've had her beat.

"Hmm," said Siri Tachi.

"Hi," Scout managed, and then berated herself—she'd been wanting to make her best possible impression, but her tongue wasn't cooperating. "I mean, hi Master Tachi." Today, it seemed, just wasn't her day. She was digging herself in, further and further.

"First," Siri said, "It's _Knight_ Tachi. Not Master. Second…you're the kid I'm supposed to be taking to Ilum, right? What's the name again…Esterhazy."

Scout managed a nod. "The others call me Scout," she volunteered, and was met with a grim smile.

"That might be easier to remember," Siri said. "So, Scout. And third, your lightsaber's a go. Interesting decisions, but I'm not here to criticise them. So let's go." She sprang to her feet, a single athletic movement, kicking away the stool and gesturing to the components. "Get them packed. We're heading to Ilum."

"Now?" Scout squeaked, and could've kicked herself for repeating Siri's words blindly.

Siri sighed. "I don't have all day, ki—Scout. And there's no better time than the present. I'll comm your Docent and tell her to let you off the hook. So let's head off already, alright?"

Scout buried her disappointment. In a way, she'd hoped that Siri would've commented—even a little—on her lightsaber design. Would've noticed that it resembled hers. She wasn't Siri's Padawan—such a conceit could've easily been criticised, but Scout had a response prepared for that. She would've explained that she favoured Shien, and so she'd built her lightsaber after that model. Perhaps Siri would've even appreciated that.

As it was, she trudged in Siri's wake, trying not to feel as though she was just an extra burden.

* * *

><p>Siri, or so Scout learned, wasn't much for piloting. She made sure Scout had her cold-weather gear, her liquid-cable launcher and her lightsaber components, and her training saber. She set down the cruiser on Ilum, and headed off with a brusque, "Follow me."<p>

Scout plodded through the snow after her, half-wondering if gorgodons would attack. She'd read about them, in the weeks when she was taking breaks between sessions in the workshop. They were dangerous, with thick muscular tails. Any Jedi apprentice with a training saber would be vulnerable. And the Force wasn't working for Scout today. It wouldn't warn her of an attack.

Their journey, however, was surprisingly peaceful. They headed up cliffs—_easy ambush sites_, a cool part of Scout's brain noted—and she enjoyed the cool rush of air in her face as they made the climb, cliff by cliff, and the air grew colder still and the roar of wind in her face seemed to engulf her in a greater silence than the one that existed between her and Siri.

Finally, just as Scout was beginning to feel the burn in her muscles, Siri held up her hand to indicate a stop. "Here we are," she murmured. Scout blinked. What she'd taken to be a crack in the cliff-face was actually the thin entrance to a crevasse, one that probably opened up to a cave. Except it wasn't just a cave, she thought ruefully. It was _the_ cave, the Crystal Cave, the one almost all Jedi apprentices went to to build their first lightsaber.

"So," Siri said, drawing her away from the cliff's edge and towards the crack in the skin of the rock, "I'm going to tell you the things your Master should've been the one to tell you. First, the cave will test you, and it's nothing like all the crèche tests. It's going to throw all sorts of things at you, and you're going to have to deal with them. Remember that every Jedi has faced this at some point—you are _not_ alone. Second, you get take as long as you need to build that lightsaber. I'm going to sit out here and wait until you come out."

Which she proceded to do, slipping into the crack and settling down by the entrance. "Got that?"

"Yeah," Scout managed. Carefully, she made her way past Siri Tachi, and let the darkness of the cave swallow her.

* * *

><p>Whispers.<p>

That was all the cave had. She strode past them, ignoring them all. They were just whispers. Was that what every Jedi faced? Voices taunting them, mocking them, whispers beneath their skull of their inadequacy.

Scout didn't see what a big deal that was. She'd faced that _every day_, since the days her clanmates got better with the Force and she just didn't. The voices were the same she'd faced, in her own head, whispering she'd never quite be good enough to be a Jedi, she'd find herself shipped off to the Agri-Corps at thirteen with no ceremony, that her family was languishing in squalor on Vorzydd V while she threw away the opportunity to make something of herself that chance had placed into her lap.

Not good enough. Not strong enough. Weak.

She fought past them with the same stubborn determination that had seen her past obstacles during her training, the same resolution that had her touching herself with a training lightsaber blade in the deserted Memory Garden, to accustom herself to the searing kiss and so no one would hear her cry out.

Siri Tachi had taught her that.

And then, just as she drew into the crystal chamber, she saw Siri Tachi, standing there, golden head fierce and proud and unbroken. _Stop_, said part of Scout's mind, the one that had earned her the nickname for her cool-headed trick of scoping out a situation a few heartbeats faster than anyone else in her year, _the cave's doing that, trying to feel you out_.

She stepped forward, in spite of herself.

"I would've taken you as my Padawan," not-Siri said, casually. "I like you. You've got heart." And then blaster fire ripped through her—so clean, so quick, before Scout even expected it, before Scout could even begin to do anything about it.

Siri fell, crumpled to the ground.

Scout froze. Her voice caught in her throat. Was this what it was like, she thought, in spite of herself, to grow up? To realise that Jedi Knights had limits; that idols didn't last, that even goddesses aged and died and were broken.

Her cheek was wet—furiously, she scrubbed at it and shouted to the cave, "There is no death, there is the Force!" Willed herself to believe it—if she didn't, what had she left?

A glimmer in the darkness answered her. A lady stepped forward, her hair pale white, cool and majestic. Pale eyes sought out Scout's, and caught her gaze. The Jedi robes she wore were of a design that Scout didn't recognise; ash-grey, but a few shades paler, and they hung elegantly off her. "You're young," she said. "And the Force isn't strong in you."

"I know that," Scout snapped. But the lady was shaking her head.

"No matter," she said. "I was the youngest of my sisters—and the weakest. I did not know the Force—did not touch it, until I was fully grown. And still, I was trained from birth—we all were—to disable Jedi. To arrest them. Do not underestimate what you have, Scout," she said. "An apt name."

Scout blinked. "I don't understand."

"Your gift," the lady said. "Do you understand how hard I worked to hone it? To teach it to him?" she shook her head. "Of course you don't. Battle prerecognition. Priceless, to a warrior. To read intentions, to know an enemy's move right before she will make it through the currents of battle…" She unclipped the lightsaber from her belt, held it out to Scout.

It was _perfect_, Scout thought. It was the lightsaber she'd dreamed of fashioning, even if she never could. Streamlined and sleek. "Here," said the lady. "Take this. A gift, from one strategist to another."

Scout said, "I can't—"

The lightsaber hilt pressed into her hand. She was alone, now. She thumbed the activator switch, hesitantly, and smiled. The glacial blue blade that sprang to life, humming, was the same blue as the woman's eyes. Ice, not fire.

* * *

><p>Siri said, unabashed, "That was faster than I'd expected."<p>

Scout wasn't sure what she could've said in response to that; she just nodded.

"Well, c'mon then. Let me have a look at it." Siri accepted her lightsaber hilt, and switched it on, and whistled in admiration. "Look at that. I didn't think it was going to happen, from the way your components looked. Consider me impressed." She swung it, listening to the song of the blade, as if testing for something only she knew. Finally, she switched it off and handed it back to Scout.

"Shien, then?"

Scout nodded, again. She wasn't sure what else to say. "I…like the Form," she said. "It gives me plenty of room to use hand-to-hand combat tricks." Not like Ataru, she thought. Ataru's acrobatics left little room for someone as inclined to locks and holds and throws as Scout, and Scout'd long learned to play to her strengths.

"Good choice," Siri said. "Make sure to pay attention to your technique. I'll teach you a break and slash combination on the way back. That should help you against stronger opponents."

Scout flushed. "I'm…stronger than I look, Knight Tachi. But thank you."

"I know," Siri said, quietly.

* * *

><p>As her thirteenth birthday drew near, and so did the threat of the Agri-Corps, Scout threw herself fully into trying to prove her proficiency and her dedication, forcing herself to give her utmost in even the most boring of classes. All the while, Knights came and left. Some of them spoke to her, but in the end, they seemed to believe that something was missing, and they went away again. She saw no sign of Siri Tachi at the Temple, and the Knight had not made an offer except to clap her lightly on the back after they'd returned from Ilum.<p>

Lena was the first to find herself a Master—Master Edrass had asked her, after all, about two weeks after their trip to Ilum. Scout'd been happy for her friend, but that sick feeling in her stomach only continued and grew stronger as clanmate after clanmate found themselves paired up with a Master and still no one approached her with an offer.

Even Fareth had been taken on by then, by Knight Giannicin. Nevermind that his Master was a bit of a laughstock in some quarters of the Temple—at least he _had_ a Master.

Scout pushed herself all the harder, through exercises intended to put muscle on her scrawny girl's body. She had to be faster and stronger—in better shape than the other apprentices. She often dwelled on the fact that she could not count on the Force in the same way they could and knew that she needed _something_ on her side that they didn't have. Siri's break and slash combination was a neat trick, but she couldn't always be relying on it to pull herself out of the fire. She had to have _skill_ on her side, and plenty of it.

Gradually, she became aware of Siri Tachi's return to the Temple, and the Knight's presence at most of her classes. Scout kept her eyes away and focused on her work, but the Force told her—even someone as rubbish at it as her!—that Siri Tachi was watching her, even as she fumbled through exercises in the beginner's Force classes, alongside eight and nine year olds. She hardly dared to hope, but after all this time, she could still feel that sharp prickle of hope within, in the middle of all that humiliation—could still remember the roaring winds of Ilum and the singing of her lightsaber blade. No matter how many times she held it, she could not bring herself to believe she'd fashioned something like that. She! Scout! The Initiate with all that difficulty connecting with the Force!

Still, Siri Tachi seemed content to watch, instead of making her move. All the while, Scout was painfully aware of the inexorable passage of time, days and weeks and months ticking away on the holocalender in her room, until finally she was staring at a week before her thirteenth birthday, and then a week after.

And then…nothing. No message from Docent Harrun came. No orders to pack her things and be shipped off to the nearest planet to grow quinto grain. Scout could not decide which was better: the painful hope that a Knight might stop and take her as their apprentice and set her on the path to becoming a proper Jedi Knight, or the frustrated wish that the message of her reassignment to the Agri-Corps would come and put an end to her misery.

And then right after she'd set aside some time to help Bunnt Kald with his knotwork classes, Siri Tachi came by, stopped her, and said, in a cool voice, "Walk with me."

Dumbly, Scout nodded. Her traitorous heart had already started racing.

* * *

><p>Siri led her to the Memory Garden, to the very back of it, and sat down on the bench. With a gesture, she invited Scout to sit. Scout obeyed. "I don't really like to meditate here," she said, "But a friend of mine does—blame it on his Master. And hardly anyone comes here. So it should be good enough a place to talk without word getting all over the Temple."<p>

Here it came, Scout thought.

"You've seen me watching you," Siri stated, bluntly. "And at your age, you should know that most of the people watching you are Knights trying to figure out who they want as their apprentice." She laced her fingers together. She was still watching Scout, looking at her, with those dimmed blue eyes, like Aurean glass, cracked and still holding on. "And I have to say—I like what I see. I like you. I think you've got heart, and that's something that's always a good thing to see. So," she continued, crossing her legs at the ankles, "You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. I thought about it, I'll admit. Taking you as my Padawan."

Scout's stomach dropped away; there was nothing left but an empty pit. No. _No_.

"I thought about it," Siri said, conversationally. "And then I realised that I couldn't. And it wasn't your fault. It's…" she looked down at her hands. "I can't take another Padawan. I thought I should explain this to you. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise."

Numbly, Scout said, "I'm thirteen. They haven't sent me away yet." It was the most she'd allowed herself to do, pleading with a Knight to take her on. "I remember the first time I saw you. You walked into my lightsaber classes, and I thought that it was fine, that I could be a Jedi Knight, despite being…despite being…not good enough. I looked up to you…" her voice trailed off. Siri was already shaking her head. "Please?"

Begging. Hating herself for begging. She was _desperate_, and that made her do things she normally wouldn't. That she normally wouldn't think of doing.

Siri sighed, and stretched out her legs. "I guess you deserve more of an explanation. You know what happened to my last Padawan?"

"No."

"He left the Order," Siri said, and at last, Scout understood: why Siri was _Knight_ Tachi, why she'd never heard of Ferus Olin again, why that fierce quality in Siri was dimmed, so many things. Why Siri _wouldn't_ taken her on as her Padawan. "It was a stupid mistake. We were on a group mission, with three other Jedi teams. Ferus—my Padawan—had been selected for a pilot accelerated Knighthood programme. One of the apprentices had a malfunctioning lightsaber. Contrary to what we tell them to do, he didn't report it to his Master, knowing he would be sent back to the Temple."

"_Fierfek_," Scout whispered, appalled. She could begin to see the tragedy taking shape, now.

"Ferus fixed his lightsaber. Or he thought he had fixed it. The details are not important. The lightsaber failed at a critical juncture, and a fellow Padawan was killed. Ferus was distraught. He took responsibility, and resigned from the Order. We tried counselling him, but…" Siri looked at her. "You see why I can't take you as my Padawan."

Scout didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say.

"I failed him," Siri said. "I failed Ferus. At the very end, he felt that he could not go on. Our Master-Padawan relationship ended there. There wasn't enough trust that we could see this true. I'd failed to teach him important lessons—that he couldn't be responsible for everything, that the death of a Padawan—a shattering incident, by anyone's lights—was in this case a tragedy for which _everyone_ was responsible. I failed badly. I'm not spilling my guts out for just anyone. But I'm spilling them now so I can spell it out for you. I can't take you as my Padawan. I wasn't ready for Ferus. And now, I don't think I'm ready for what you need of me. I'm sorry, Scout. I…" she took a deep breath. "I would've loved to have you as my Padawan."

She stood up and left, taking Scout's last hope, the dream she'd steadily nursed over the past two years with her. She did not look back.

* * *

><p>A week later, Master Yoda found Scout, sobbing, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and told her that Chankar Kim wanted to take her on as her apprentice.<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Where one dream ends, another begins."—Jedi saying, commonly attributed to Jedi Master Ikur Dhittharvarati eli Sounta.<em>


End file.
